


The Oldest Story

by SophieRipley



Series: Sweetly United [5]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Budding Love, F/F, Introvert, Mentions of Suicide, Slow Romance, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:38:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieRipley/pseuds/SophieRipley
Summary: Felicity Kaine is a well-known writer, but spends much of her life in profound loneliness.  This begins to change when she meets Samantha Hopps; what follows is her own version of the oldest story ever told:  the story of romance.





	1. Chapter 1

To most mammals, it was a minor thing:  A thorn, so to speak, causing fleeting ache and little more.  It was something to lament for a moment and pass away into memory of what came before, something to move forward from without noticing, or with noticing only very little.  It was a passing nuisance and nothing more.

For Felicity, it was so much greater.  It was a sniper’s bullet finding its mark in her vulnerable torso.  It was an arrow thrown from a warbow shattering into her.  A monumental failure to be kind enough, or pretty enough, or smart enough, or to be _enough_.  It was a cage of scalpels binding her heart, such that the organ in its typical motion shredded itself upon its bindings.  It was an executioner’s axe, cleaving her breast in twain and leaving her gasping and bleeding upon the floor of her own insecurities.

The name of Felicity’s torture was called _Rejection_ , and it bore itself upon her shoulders waiting for its time to bring her low.

The looming presence of her personal demon was why Felicity wrote for a living.  She was good at it, but more importantly:  writing took her away from _mammals_.  It undid the necessity in modern society to interact with others on an hourly basis, allowed her to seclude herself in her research and her word-weaving.  It was _typical_ , after all, of a writer to be reclusive.  For someone such as Felicity Kaine who harbored a deep dread of being ridiculed and rejected by others, such a profession was perfect. 

Even she was not immune to the detrimental effects of that cold specter they call _loneliness_.  This was why she purchased the bookstore in the middle of downtown Bunny Burrow.  It allowed her the ability to work her own hours—the emptiest hours with fewest customers—and she could be certain she would almost always see people like _her_ :  mammals who revered the written word and felt more at home surrounded by shelves of books than in crowds of mammals.  Mammals to whom seclusion and quiet was a way of life.  It afforded Felicity a unique ability to watch these mammals, study them, and—if she thought it appropriate, deemed it _safe_ —engage with them and interact past the mindless necessities of a store clerk.

Her opportunity came only a week after starting to work at the bookstore.  There came a rabbit doe into her store, slender for her species and in fantastic shape.  She was mostly white with large black spots dotting her exposed fur, including one prominent spot along the line of her jaw.  Her eyes were a very rare purple, darting around to peer at everything around her and nothing for long, lingering at the exits and noting possible weapons.

Predator’s eyes.

Felicity watched as the bunny moved straight through the store to the section with textbooks and instruction manuals, moving through the place as if she’d been there before, wasting not a step or a second reaching the target of her desires.  Once she reached the education section, though, the bunny’s haste failed.  Since she was the only customer in the store, Felicity kept an eye on her over the next few minutes.  Unfortunately the bunny was mostly concealed behind the shelves dividing the space between her and Felicity; unfortunate because she was quite attractive indeed, sporting  luscious hips and an athlete’s glutes, which blended nicely with her feminine curves.

After almost fifteen minutes, Felicity decided to approach the bunny.  She’d cloud it in the guise of an attending shop employee, maybe drop a flirt or two, and see how it went.  So she padded quietly through the store and approached her from behind.  The bunny gazed down at two books, her tail twitching idly.

“Hey,” called Felicity softly, “You’ve been back here for awhile.  Need a hand?”

The bunny started to turn toward her, not looking up until the last moment.  “Yeah, I’m looking at stuff about kits, and I’m not sure how I feel about this Bradley Lasseter fellow—“  The moment her eyes locked with Felicity’s the reaction was immediate:  she gasped in shock and fear, froze for an instant, then stepped back and snapped into a defensive posture. 

A mixture of acid and shattered glass seemed to fill Felicity’s belly even as the bunny stammered at her.  Felicity’s smile fell and her ears swept down and back. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”  Her voice, to her, sounded pitiful and sad.  “If you need assistance let me know.”  She turned and fled the encounter, and when she got to the checkout counter she sat on the floor behind it, cradling her head in her paws.  The terrible empty feeling in her belly threatened to make her sick, and the burning prickle of tears threatening to fall served only to worsen the feeling. 

The bunny hadn’t just rejected Felicity, she had been _terrified_ of her.  Terrified of the predator, the _fox_. 

Felicity took a few deep steadying breaths to bring herself under control, then stood again and leaned against the counter, her elbows planted on it.  Her claws, crimson with polish, trailed through the fur on the inside of her left wrist where a faint line parted the snowy fur subtly.  She remembered it, years past, the end of a cold, silent lonely day in a long line of cold, silent lonely days, twelve years deep.  Felicity was a battleground of conflicting factions:  on one side her terror of rejection and ostracism; on the other,  her profound loneliness and hunger for companionship.  Just one person could have helped, just one admission of love and caring, but there had been nobody. 

Felicity remembered the scarlet pouring forth, matting her snow-white fur and staining it.  She remembered herself growing colder, and she remembered being discovered far too soon by hotel staff.  The resulting three week stay in the hospital had been the hardest three weeks of her life. 

She’d been reminded to stay strong by the hospital’s resident psychologist.  Reminded that people loved her.  Since then, Felicity had come to the decision that suicide was selfish and weak and cowardly, and she was _not a coward_.  But some days it felt like she bore the weight of the entire world upon her back and even the strongest trusses must eventually buckle when subjected to a great enough load.  Three years ago she buckled, and marked her wrist.  She thought about home, the modest one-bedroom house at the edge of town; the single lonely bed and the solitary empty bathroom.  She thought about tonight, the latest in a long line of lonely nights, fifteen years deep, and she felt herself buckling again.

When the rabbit came up to the front of the store with a stack of books in her paws, Felicity was somewhat surprised but didn’t look up at her until she set the books down.  She glanced up at Felicity briefly without meeting her eyes, and the fox inwardly sighed. 

“I-I’m sorry,” said the bunny softly, her voice quivering with what could have been shame.  “About b-before.  I h-have a type of anxiety and…and it’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.”  She looked up at Felicity once again, still not meeting her eyes but lingering on her face for a moment.  “…you’re really pretty.”

Felicity felt her frown ease a bit as understanding flooded her.  It wasn’t _personal_.  It wasn’t that Felicity herself wasn’t enough, or was too much, it was just that this bunny was broken.  It was still a rejection, but it was perhaps less severe than it could have been. 

Felicity started scanning the books.  The bunny seemed to be a prospective student, judging from the books present.  “I’m sorry for sneaking up on you,” said Felicity quietly.  “For the record.”

She reached the last book in the stack, a little paperback with a vixen witch and a gopher woman on the cover.  It was a decent enough novel, if you were an adult:  it contained a complicated love story between a creature of magic and a mortal mammal, and was very heavily pornographic in some chapters.  Felicity knew this because it was the first novel she’d ever written.

“Interesting choice,” said Felicity with a smirk.  “This author has a three book series with a similar premise; if you enjoy this one, I recommend it.”  It was the first time she’d ever recommended one of her own books and it would probably be the last.

It was clear the bunny had no idea the book’s writer was standing before her.  “Thanks,” said the bunny.  “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”  She paid and gathered her new books; the movement from the counter to the doors was too quick to be a walk, but not quite fast enough to be called fleeing. 

She stopped at the door, hesitated, then looked back at Felicity, looking into her eyes.  “I’m Samantha.”

Felicity couldn’t help the warmth that flooded her, or the smile that resulted.  “Felicity,” replied the fox.  She watched the bunny leave without looking back, and an unfamiliar sensation brushed her breast, tickling up her spine and lifting her tail.  It took her a moment to put a name to it:

It was hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short, and I can't say for sure how that'll translate forward. I could have made it longer, covering everything in _Decisions to Heal_ up to Sam's attack, but I didn't for two reasons. First, I felt this was a good stopping place. And second, I'm probably going to go in greater detail in certain areas of the story leading up to that point, and I don't know that I can do that in just one chapter. 
> 
> So in case it's not clear, this is going to be an ongoing story. Not sure how many chapters it'll have, but I'll be working on this story for now. I hope you enjoyed! Please comment if you have anything to say!


	2. Chapter 2

Routine, like an aloe salve to a burn, to a woman such as Felicity was a soothing thing.  Such it was then that when the enigmatic rabbit Samantha began coming into her shop regularly Felicity began to derive a not inconsiderable level of comfort from it.  After their first encounter, Felicity took an approach akin to a hunter, watching from the sidelines and observing from afar.  Only for Felicity the goal was not a meal but a relationship.  Friendship was her immediate objective and from then what would come, would come.  Her decision to pursue a friendship with Samantha came gradually and all at once in the hours after meeting her.  And from then she looked forward to Samantha’s visits.

The routine established itself quickly.  Samantha would enter the store precisely at eight in the evening, a half hour after Felicity started her shift and two hours before closing.  She would come every Saturday except the final Saturday of the month, and she would stay until the store closed, browsing the shelves.  If she had something to buy for classes she’d start in that section and then she would migrate to the fiction books, delving slowly at first into the world of erotic fiction with occasional dalliances into fantasy.  She would only browse most of the time but once a month she would purchase something. 

Occasionally Samantha would speak to Felicity.  The first such occasion was one month after their fateful first meeting, when Felicity approached in full view and said quite friendly in manner, “Good evening, Samantha, need some help?”

The doe had shaken her head.  “Sam,” said the bunny without quite making eye contact.  “Most people call me Sam.  I have everything under control, but t-thanks.”

Much of what Sam said to Felicity was likely intended to be inconsequential and to most mammals would have been, but Felicity was not most mammals.  She began to pick things up.  For example, Sam had mentioned in passing one evening that she was one of her mother’s few multiple births, the third born of three kits from that pregnancy.  Two of them had been identical and Sam was not one of the two.  The wistful tone belied the flippant manner in which it was delivered and indicated a feeling of overshadowing, as if Sam herself was nonessential, insignificant even within her own family.  It was a sentiment Felicity couldn’t help but to understand, considering the prodigious size of Sam’s family.

Things were further elucidated when Sam mentioned a sister, first rabbit in the Zootopia Police Department, favored of their parents and lauded by their peers.  Samantha had never been first, had never been _chosen_ in anything.  She had always been pushed to the side and made to support others.  Yet, Felicity discovered, Samantha was kind.  More than once the fox had witnessed Samantha purchase something for another, children wanting books but unable to afford them.  She’d done so even when it meant not being able to make her own purchase that evening, and Felicity found herself impressed. 

Felicity gently flirted occasionally, but Sam never seemed to notice.  It was no wonder:  she had seven hours of classes a day and never seemed to take a break except for those three days a month during which she visited the store.  Every week that went by showed Sam to be slightly more withdrawn, slightly more tired, slightly more obsessive.  Felicity assumed that it would break eventually but a  year passed, and then two, and even a third slipped by and Sam’s spiral into obsessive exhaustion didn’t wane. 

Felicity took her time and pushed only slightly here and there.  She tried to help Sam subtly to realize she was driving herself into the ground, tried somehow to will the bunny to snap out of it, but nothing worked.  She might have taken a more direct approach, was more seriously considering it by the week, but even now after three years Felicity had no idea if they were even _friends_ , and so had no idea if she had any right to say anything in the first place.  Even then, it seemed Samantha’s schooling was rapidly coming to an end, and so did it matter anyway?  She had only two more semesters, and then one more semester, and then less than that, and still Felicity worried.

And through all of it she couldn’t help but to think frequently back to the day they met.  Back to the epiphany she’d had.  Back to the moment when Sam had quite literally saved Felicity’s life…simply by existing.  Felicity had lived for a long time in a pall of emotional darkness, had trudged through life  with her back figuratively bowed under the vast weight of her own insecurities and her own sense of purposelessness.  Her grave descent had reached such a shattering low when Samantha had reacted with such visceral terror that night in the store that even the little smile she’d given upon parting had almost not been enough to still the momentum of her potential decision to end her mortal strife.

She had gone home after closing the bookstore and spent the night trying to write.  With a quiet nocturne playing, the words usually flowed like wine from a fine winery, and yet her mind kept returning to the rabbit.  The phantasm of Samantha’s terrified countenance haunted Felicity into the early hours of the morning while the shade of the rabbit’s timidly sweet and cautious parting smile pacified her again.  Finally she gave up the idea of writing and stepped out on the veranda with a glass of red Moscato.  Felicity sat in the finely carved wooden chair sitting perfectly to see the horizon where shortly the sun would rise and she thought about her home.

It was a small domicile but well built in graceful lines, a place to which some might refer as art nouveau, containing a cozy living room with a fireplace and settee, and a single spacious bathroom with waterfall shower, and a single bedroom with full bed, and an open kitchen with all modern steel amenities where she cooked her personal meals in solitude.  The second bedroom had been turned into her sanctuary, wherein she retreated to spin ideas into graceful prose on a digital page for the enjoyment of others.  It was where she spent most of her time, but some mornings when she was feeling most introspective she might—as she had that very morning—decide to venture forth onto the veranda wrapping around her home, screened in and quiet with a beautiful view over the river that marked the edge of her property and the beginning of the forest surrounding Bunny Burrow. 

She sipped her wine, letting wash over her the shrill sounds of waking birds and soft rushing of water over stone and earth and she gazed into her right paw where lay a delicate instrument.  It was all elegant curves and keen edges, the pattern welded steel of the blade and delicately carved ivory of the handle cold against the pads of her fingers.  It was a straight razor, the only artifact she had remaining of her father who had died when she was very young.  He’d been a surgeon and had used this very instrument to shave many mammals in preparation for surgery.  Felicity imagined she could feel the patience, the caring, the attention to detail her father had instilled into the blade over years of use.  So careful had her father been that it had never tasted blood.

Felicity thought about the empty house behind her.  Vacant of laughter; devoid of life; barren of _love_ , it lay silent and heavy and cold, a tidy reflection Felicity’s own heart.  It had been that way since she’d had it built here on the bend of a river at the edge of the woods, and she had no reason to suspect that it might ever be any different.  The straight razor glittered gravely in her paw and mocked her for it. 

But then shafts of gold lit the horizon, a phoenix rising from the ashes of the night, and once more came Samantha’s face in Felicity’s mind, the latest in a hundred such unsolicited intrusions.  The bunny was beautiful and fierce and afraid and courageous and defiant and timid and plain and wonderful, a paradox of being so complete that Felicity was drawn to it like bees to sweet nectar.  The memory of that parting smile, so shy and closed and inviting, was not unlike the very sunrise before Felicity at that very moment, illuminating her darkness; bringing _sunshine_ at long last to her long twilight.

Felicity gently coaxed the blade of the razor out of its handle and gazed on the engraving upon it, which her father had commissioned from the last forgeworker in their village.  Thoughts of the rabbit bounded within her head as chills ran down her body, sending her thick fur to raising, and Felicity smiled.  She read the words silently to herself and felt her eyes prickle with tears, then softly she folded the knife again and laid it reverently upon her lap.

Felicity sipped her wine then and gazed into the sunrise, the second most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and she whispered those words to herself in the quiet of the morning.  “ _Do not go gentle into that good night.  Rage…rage against the dying of the light._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This note left intentionally blank.


	3. Chapter 3

A white-furred paw slapped away a smaller paw with a growl.  “Damn it, Sam, quit picking at the bandage.  The doctor said to leave it alone or it won’t heal.”

Samantha frowned deeply and crossed her arms, staring resolutely ahead at the red light in front of them.  “It _itches_.”

“I know it itches,” said Felicity.  “That’s because the anesthetic is wearing off.  Keep picking and you’ll hurt later.”

Silence fell between them and as Felicity drove she felt a certain tension bound between them as well.  Several hours ago Sam had been attacked, and since then she’d been to the hospital and got stitches, had given statements to the police, and called her parents with whom she still lived to let them know she was coming home with a guest since Felicity refused to leave Sam to make her way home by herself.  In that time the shock of her encounter had worn off and the rabbit oscillated between very irritable and very upset as she tried to understand precisely how she should feel about what happened.

The bunny was an adult, well into her mid-twenties, but that didn’t stop Felicity from worrying about her.  “Sam—“ said Felicity just as Sam started to speak.  Felicity fell silent and looked over to Sam, letting her speak instead.

“Go home first,” said Sam softly.  “Your home, I mean.  You’re still wearing that shirt.  You’ll end up meeting my parents and it might go over better if you’re not all bloody.”

“That’s a bit of a detour.  I live at the edge of town.”

Sam shrugged and looked out the window, so Felicity followed instructions and made her way to her little house by the river.  It was quiet between them for the duration of the trip and when they arrived Felicity escorted Sam self-consciously to the front door and into the living room. 

“Sit down anywhere,” said Felicity.  “I’ll go wash up and change.  Want something to drink?”

Sam shook her head and looked around at the living room as Felicity left the room.  It was decorated sparsely.  The couch, a fairly standard brown one, was situated directly across from an entertainment center containing a couple game systems and some photos.  The photos were mostly of an older snow fox and who she was sure was a very young Felicity.  There was no other family on display, and no photos of friends.  Several of the photos were of Felicity by herself:  one standing before a display in a bookstore containing the first book she’d gotten published, and another the day she graduated college, degree in paw.

Sam gazed at the pictures for a moment, then made her way into the kitchen adjacent to the living room.  It was not large, but it held very modern stainless steel appliances.  A quick look made it easy to see that Felicity was an experienced cook, and Sam wondered briefly what it would take to convince her to make her something.  That thought, however, led to more intimate thoughts which in turn reminded her of the attack earlier that evening.  Her breath caught in her throat and she had to brace herself on the counter to stop herself from curling up on the floor.  She stood like that breathing deeply and slowly to forestall a panic attack for an unknown time, broken only when she heard Felicity approach from the living room.

Felicity could see Sam beginning to freak out and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, uncertain what to do.  She wanted to put an arm around Sam but she was acutely aware that she was a fox and so that attention didn’t seem wise.  “How do I help?” asked Felicity softly.  “Tell me what to do.”

Sam was silent for a minute before shaking her head and standing straight again, wiping at her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, stepping closer to Felicity.  “I’m trying to get over it.  It’s hard.”

Felicity shook her head and hesitantly laid a paw on Sam’s shoulder.  Sam didn’t flinch, and leaned slightly into it.  “Don’t apologize, Sam,” said Felicity sternly.  “What happened tonight was terrible, and you have every right to be a mess over it.  I shouldn’t have brought you in my home, is all.  Too close to a fox.  I should have known it would be a problem.”

Sam shook her head and put a paw over Felicity’s.  “No, it’s okay.  You aren’t her.  I won’t go back to my prejudice from before.  I refuse.  You’ve done nothing but help.  I…it’ll take time for me to get over this.  But you said you’d be here for me, if I wanted you to be.”

Felicity looked back at Sam for a long moment, gauging her emotions; when she decided Sam was being honest, Felicity nodded and gripped her shoulder lightly.  “Every step of the way, Sunshine.  Let’s get you home, okay?”

They separated, the moment passed, and they made their way outside.  In the aftermath of her episode in Felicity’s kitchen, the hiss of tires on the road lulled Sam into an exhausted sleep.

She remained asleep when Felicity pulled into the parking area on the Hopps property where an older grey-furred doe stood waiting, arms crossed and a frown on her face.  Felicity got out of her car and moved around to the passenger side.  “She’s asleep,” said Felicity quietly.  “Are you her mother?”

The doe nodded and watched Felicity very carefully as she reached in and pulled Samantha from the car.  “Bonnie.  The doctor called me.  Are you the one who maimed my daughter?”

Felicity stood straight and nudged the car door closed with her hip, cradling Sam, still sleeping, gently in her arms.  Sam nestled into her chest unconsciously.  “If I were,” replied Felicity openly, “I would be dead right now.  I’m a friend, I was on the scene just after it happened.  I made sure she got to the hospital.  My name is Felicity.”

Bonnie’s demeanor changed immediately and she relaxed, her angry frown fading into a concerned motherly one.  “Well, come inside.  Stu is waiting in the kitchen.  I’ll show you to Sam’s room first though so we can put her to bed.”

Felicity nodded and let Bonnie lead the way.  She found herself impressed by the home:  it was large once they descended underground, and was simultaneously cozy and economical, serving as a home for a rather large number of mammals.  This late at night, nearly into early morning, it was quiet, most of the lights dimmed.

When they finally made it back upstairs and to the kitchen, Bonnie sat at the table next to a tan-colored buck she identified as her husband.  Felicity sat across from them, and Stu slid a glass of water over to her.  Felicity wrapped her paws around the water but didn’t drink as the silence grew brittle.

“What happened?” asked Bonnie finally.

Felicity didn’t meet her gaze.  “Same thing that happened when she was a kid.  Kit fox named Heather attacked her.  She was clawed across the jaw and down her chest, but the wounds should heal pretty readily.  The…physical ones, at least.”

“She’s come so far,” muttered Stu, equal parts anger and sorrow in his voice. 

“And she’ll keep going,” replied Felicity.  “She let me help her to the hospital, let me drive her home.  She wants me here helping her through this, and I intend to be here as long as she wants me around.”  There was a measure of steel in her voice as she spoke.

Bonnie nodded.  “Sam must have told you about our…past beliefs.  Rest assured, we’re better than that now.  You’re welcome here as long as you do right by Sam.”

Stu’s paws clenched into fists.  “Why _Sam_?  She’s always been a little fragile.  Why is it _her_ that keeps being attacked??  Does she not deserve a little peace?!”

“Stu,” admonished Bonnie, “you’re shouting.”  Stu sighed and lowered his head.

Felicity cleared her throat.  “Like I said, I don’t intend to leave Sam to recover on her own, and I certainly don’t plan to leave when she does recover.  She can defend herself, but she needs a friend.”

Bonnie stared at her for a long moment.  “You like Samantha, don’t you?”

 _Yes_.  “I want to help.”

Bonnie nodded.  “I’m calling Sam’s therapist in the morning.  You can take her there tomorrow afternoon.  I’ll have Sam text you the details when she gets up.”

Felicity nodded and stood with the Hopps parents and they walked to the front door together.  “I’ll be here.  I’m sorry this happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault.  Go home, we’ll take over for now.”

Felicity turned and went to her car.  Bonnie called out to her as she opened the driver side door, and she paused, looking back.

“Felicity?  Thank you.”

Stu grasped Bonnie’s paw and nodded.  “You’re welcome here any time.”

Felicity climbed in her car without replying and drove home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realize it's been months and months since I've touched this story and I'm sorry! I can't promise a prompt return for chapter three, but I've certainly not abandoned it. 
> 
> I thought about going back and rehashing some of the other events from _Decisions To Heal_ , but I felt despite how long it's been that it wouldn't add anything to the story at all, so I didn't. From this point forward it's all new territory. 
> 
> Also, I realize this is a short chapter. The other two were as well, and I'm not sure if that'll change or not. We'll see what happens. 
> 
> Finally...I feel like Stu is out of character here. If you agree, just chalk it up to it being really late or something, I don't know :/ Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the update.


	4. Chapter 4

_Appt 3pm, pick Sam up at 1 you can get lunch first_

Felicity looked at the text for the twentieth time since sitting down and sighed.  One o’clock had come and gone half an hour ago and Sam was nowhere to be seen.  Across from her sat Bonnie, a grandchild in one arm and a tea in the other, wearing an expression of great forbearance colored mildly with humor.

“I thought you’d have more patience than this.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow.  “Because I’m a predator?”

“Because you’re an introvert.”  Bonnie sipped her tea, dutifully ignoring how the infant chewed on her ear.  “I’ve known a few in my time.  Raised a few more.  A large capacity for patience is a common trait.”

Felicity’s gaze fell to the untouched tea before her, and she trifled with the cup absently.  “I am worried about Samantha.  I suppose I don’t have as much right to worry as some might, but all the same.”

“That’s nonsense,” groused Bonnie.  She pointed a finger at Felicity.  “You’re the only person outside this property she’s spoken about in a long time, you know.  Even with her focus on school, she gives you a lot of attention.  The only other mammal she even talks about to any of us is my son Nicholas, and then only to find out how he’s doing.  I’ll never understand how that fox managed to change her, you know.  But she and Judy still don’t talk as much as they used to.  Though that’s improving.  Once Sam graduates and snaps out of this damned obsession I expect it’ll get a lot better.”

Felicity stared at Bonnie impassively as she rambled on for the next few minutes, and she couldn’t help but think of a figure of speech her father liked to use, but which she’d never dare utter here:  _chasing rabbits_.  She smiled absently and chuckled, causing Bonnie to break her verbal stride with a sheepish grin.

“Here I am talking your poor ear off.  Let me get a good head of steam behind me and I’ll talk all day.  Tell you what, why don’t you go downstairs and see if you can’t get Sam to hurry up a bit.  I can’t imagine she’s still asleep.”

Felicity nodded and stood.  “With a little luck, it won’t be difficult.”

“That’s the spirit, dear,” grinned Bonnie as Felicity turned.

The reason for Sam having taken so long presented itself readily when Felicity peeked her head in the bunny’s room:  Sam was indeed still asleep.  Sprawled spread-eagled on her back, Samantha breathed slowly and quietly with her mouth open.  At some point during the night, or possibly the morning, she’d managed to kick off her pants and the capacious t-shirt she’d borrowed from Felicity the previous evening to replace shredded one she’d been wearing, leaving her bare-chested in a delicate pair of baby blue panties.

Felicity resisted both the temptation to roll her eyes and the temptation to stare at the neatly outlined groin, deciding instead to cross the space between them and kneel next to the bed.  She gently touched Sam’s white-furred shoulder, whispering the girl’s name to urge her to wake.  The first attempt elicited no reaction, but the second caused quite the strong reaction indeed.

Sam jerked away from Felicity suddenly, inhaling sharply with a wild look in her eye, one paw shooting out to grasp Felicity by the throat.  It lasted only a moment, though, as Sam saw the apologetic and brittle look in Felicity’s face, registering who it was by sight and scent.  She let go and slumped back against her bed with a groan.

“What is it?” complained Sam sleepily.  “I don’t wanna wake up.  Waking up sucks.  Life _sucks_.”  She paused a moment, blinking at the ceiling.  “My _face hurts_.  I need aspirin.”

“There’s no swelling, at least,” commented Felicity.  “Get dressed and we’ll fetch you aspirin and then go for lunch before your appointment.”

Sam stiffened, rolled her head to glare at Felicity.  “ _What_ appointment.”

Felicity’s ears swept back and she broke eye contact.  “Your mother called your therapist, you have an appointment at three.  We’re going to go get lunch first, then I’m taking you there.”

“Nope.”  Sam swung her legs around and stood up, then skinned out of her panties, leading Felicity to blush hard and look away.  “Not going.”  She pranced to her dresser, where she picked out a new pair of panties, maroon this time—no, Felicity was _not_ peeking, whatever do you mean?—and a black tennis skirt.  She began pulling them on.  “I can do this without a damned _shrink_ getting all in my head like he did when I was a kitten.  No way, no how.”

Once Sam’s bottom half was suitably covered, Felicity sat on her bed and stared flatly at her over crossed arms.  “Samantha, you will get through this much more easily with a therapist.  Believe me, I know.  I didn’t go through what you did, but I have my own issues I’ve tried to work out on my own.  It’s hard going it alone.”

Sam held the black sleeveless tee she’d pulled out over her chest, and looked at Felicity through the mirror over her dresser shyly.  “…I’m not alone.  I have you.”

The vixen’s blush returned and she couldn’t fight the smile that spread across her muzzle; she settled by looking away and picking up the shirt Sam had borrowed the previous evening, a black shirt with a white space ship on the front bearing the words _‘I aim to misbehave’_.  “…I’m not enough, Sunshine.  You know that.”

Sam put on the sleeveless tee, then marched across and planted herself in front of Felicity, fists on her hips.  “You are my friend, Felicity,” said Sam more softly than Felicity expected.  “You’re my friend, and that’s _enough_.” 

A knot appeared in Felicity’s throat, and she couldn’t have responded even if she’d known what to say.  The conflict in her between the desire to be a good friend and the sheer _longing_ she had for _more_ combined with those simple but profound words to drive the breath from her.

Sam’s arms slipped down to her side.  “But I’ll go,” said Sam finally.  “Since you insist.”  She pulled the fox-sized shirt from Felicity and put it on over her sleeveless tee; it was almost comically large, Sam’s slender but toned body swallowed by it, even her skirt almost obscured by the huge shirt; all but Sam’s right shoulder which poked out the neck adorably. 

Lunch was a quiet affair at a local diner just down the street from the therapist’s office.  Sam spent the majority of it waking up and trying to steel herself to face the therapy, while Felicity spent it thinking.  Sam had called her friend; Felicity had had few enough of those that the sentiment was touching and important.  At the same time, however, she was keenly aware that the typical sentiment of “friendship” precluded the deeper connection she so desperately craved; the contradiction of sentiment bestowed upon Felicity a burning ache that seeped into her bones and fractured her fragile heart.    She valued their friendship too much to lament the reality that it wasn’t more, and yet she desired so strongly to be _loved_ by this rabbit that it could not be ignored.  It was that which weighed Felicity’s solemn, even brooding silence during their lunch.  It was that which prevented Felicity from looking directly at Sam.

“You’re quiet,” pointed out Sam, after finishing her plate of potatoes. 

Felicity glanced up at her briefly, tried to smile; mostly succeeded.  “So are you.”

“I don’t like therapy,” shrugged Sam.  “I think I know why you’re so quiet.”

Felicity froze.  Had she been found out?  Had Sam seen through her like so much glass?

“You’re worried I see you differently now, because you’re a fox.  That I’m afraid of you.”

Felicity felt relief, because while Sam wasn’t _wrong_ , she also wasn’t _right_.  Felicity felt sorrow, because while Sam did care, it wasn’t _enough_.  “You’re a regular mentalist.”

“And you’re deflecting.”  Sam grasped Felicity’s paw.  “I’m not afraid of you.  Okay?”

“I believe you.”  It was the truth.  “We should go.  I’ll get lunch.”

Sam frowned.  “No, I can’t let you pay for me, you’ve done so much already—“

“Sunshine,” interrupted Felicity, “I am a bestselling novelist.  You’re a college student.  Let me pay for lunch.”

Sam hesitated, but then nodded.  “…point made.  Thanks.” 

They settled up with the waitress, then walked down the street to the therapist’s office, arriving just in time for Sam’s appointment.  Sam disappeared into the office proper, and Felicity settled down in the waiting room for a long wait with a book she’d brought along to pass the time.  It was only ten minutes later, however, when the door opened again and the therapist, a brown-colored rabbit buck beckoned at Felicity, inviting her inside.

Once inside, Felicity sat down tentatively next to Sam on the couch with a  confused expression.  The office was comfortable, more of a sitting room with a desk than what Felicity would normally consider an office proper.  The therapist sat in an armchair across from the couch and addressed Felicity while Sam sat in the corner of the couch pouting.

“I’m Doctor Bryant,” said the buck gently.  “Samantha has expressed that she’d be more comfortable with you present for these sessions, if that’s okay.  Just as an observer, you understand.  Moral support, if you will.”

Felicity nodded, looking at Sam.  “Of course.  If that’s what Sam wants.”

Sam rolled her eyes.  “Observer my arse.  You can talk as much as you want to, Felicity.”

“Remember, Samantha,” admonished Bryant, “that these sessions are about _you_ , not your friend.  It’s your right to have her here, but this is your therapy.”

Sam scoffed, and Doctor Bryant steepled his fingers.  “I see ‘therapy’ is a word you’re not comfortable with.  Would you like to look at it a different way?  I’m here to ask you questions, and to get you thinking.  To facilitate your own choice to move past what’s happened to you.”

“…like a coach.  A life coach,” replied Sam grudgingly.

“Just so,” replied Bryant brightly.  “These are your coaching sessions, for your benefit.”

“I hate life coaches,” grumbled Sam.  Felicity and Bryant both noted she was being obstinate and so it was ignored.

“So, Samantha, tell me about your brother in law.  The last time I spoke to you a few years ago he had just married your sister and you had mixed feelings about it.”

Forty minutes later, Felicity and Sam stepped out of the office into the brightness of the spring afternoon.  Felicity donned a pair of sunglasses against the bright as Sam huffed in irritation.  “This is _pointless_!”

“Sunshine,” chided Felicity.

“He didn’t even _ask_ about Heather!”

“Sam.”

“All we talked about was _Nick_ and _Judy_ and _relationships!_ ”

“ _Samantha_ ,” barked Felicity.

Sam stopped dead on the sidewalk and glared at Felicity.  “ _What_!”

“Number one,” said Felicity, raising one finger, “restrain yourself.  While I understand your irritation, you’re blowing it out of proportion.”

“Blowing it out of—Felicity, none of it was _relevant_!”  Sam stomped her foot.  “It was just a waste of my time and yours, and didn’t mean anything!”

“Of course it did.”  Felicity gently tugged Sam, getting her moving again.  “That’s number two.  He’s got to establish a baseline with you, know what’s been happening and what’s been influencing you.  Can you honestly tell me that your relationship with Nick Wilde, and his with your sister, had _nothing_ to do with what happened last night?”

“I damn well _can_ tell you that,” snapped Sam.  Then she grumbled under her breath, “it wouldn’t be _true_ , but I could _say_ it, damn it.”

Felicity sighed with a chuckle.  “You revel in being onerous, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”  Sam gave her a sidelong look.

“Alright, Maybe, let’s get you home.”  They reached Felicity’s car, and the fox opened the passenger door for Sam.

“Don’t wanna,” groused Sam as she climbed in.  “Take me home with you, let’s play video games.”

Felicity gave a strained chuckled.  “Sunshine, I’m nocturnal.  I’ve been awake since six yesterday evening; it’s now four in the afternoon.  Soon as I get home, I’m going to sleep.”

“What?!” exclaimed Sam with an offended look.  “Why are you still awake?!  I could have gone to my appointment alone, Felicity, you need sleep.  Why’d you come with instead?!”

Felicity looked away, started the car, and began driving toward Sam’s house.  After a long moment, she glanced briefly back at Sam.  “You’re worth it,” she muttered.

Sam looked away with a frown.  If she understood the depth of Felicity’s meaning, she gave no sign.  They were silent the rest of the ride, but when they pulled into the Hopps Compound and Felicity parked, Sam looked back at Felicity.  “You carried me to my room last night.”

Felicity frowned back at her, surprised by the change in subject.  “Yeah, of course.  You remember that?”

Sam shook her head, and her eyes unfocused as she looked past the moment they were in.  “No, not really.  I just remember movement.  I remember…being safe.”  Her purple eyes refocused on Felicity’s gold-amber ones.  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Felicity raised an eyebrow, derailed again.  “Tomorrow?”

“It’s Saturday tomorrow,” explained Sam as she got out of the car.  She closed the door and leaned in the open window.  “I always come to the bookstore on Saturdays.  So I’ll see you then!”  Sam jogged to the house proper with a careless wave over her shoulder, and Felicity was off her property and well on her way home before she realized Sam hadn’t given back her shirt.

Once home she did indeed undress down to her fur and climb in bed, but sleep didn’t come easily despite her fatigue.  She lay in her room, made dark by the blackout curtains over her windows, and stared at the ceiling above her for a time, thinking of what Sam had said.  She realized she was obsessing, realized it would do well to avoid dwelling on it, but nonetheless her mind kept returning to it.  She thought of it still, even as she fell asleep, what Sam had said:  _I remember…being safe._

_Safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got around to writing another chapter here. Didn't take as long this time! Yay! And hey, it's a longer chapter than the previous three, so that's good too. 
> 
> For those of you who are following my collaboration with Selaxes, _Splinters of Darkness_ , rest assured we have not abandoned it. I realize it's been awhile since we've touched it, but I promise you we'll swing back around to it. I know Selaxes is currently working on one of his own stories, so we'll see what happens in the next week or two. 
> 
> As for the contents of this chapter...couple minor things to note. Number one, I avoided showing the whole of the therapy session for a reason. I've been trained in psychology so I sort of know how it works, but a lot of what they were talking about there was background stuff you're all aware of already. What Felicity said was the truth: Doctor Bryant was trying to establish what's been happening in Sam's life since they last worked together, and is trying to help Sam connect things in her mind by having her talk it through. This is a form of cognitive therapy that can be quite effective with the right patient. We may return to the therapy if and when it's necessary. Now, Felicity...poor dear is just twisted all in knots, isn't she? Doesn't know whether she's coming or going! I've been there myself, as, I'm sure, have many of you. I'd say I'm sorry for putting her through all that, but....we'd all know I'm lying >:D
> 
> Anyway, as always, leave your thoughts below! We're really starting to get into the meat of things here, so don't be shy! And I hope you enjoy the read :)
> 
> EDIT 02/12/2018: I have not abandoned this story; writing it takes a lot of energy, so it sometimes takes me awhile to be able to write a new chapter. I know it's been awhile, but please have patience and bear with me. More _is_ coming.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At very long last, I present to you the final chapter of _The Oldest Story_.

Previously in Sweetly United:

> Samantha Hopps, younger sister to Judith Hopps, used to be very prejudiced against foxes.  So much so that when Judy brought Nick Wilde, a red fox and her partner on the force, home with her one weekend, Sam threatened him with violence if he didn’t leave her sister alone.  Nick talked her down and was able to get through to her, realizing she had a history of abuse at the hands of foxes influencing her behavior.
> 
> Later, Sam decided to go to college for early childhood education, intending to teach elementary school.  During her time at school she met two foxes:  Heather Cox and Felicity Kaine.  Felicity was an introverted but pleasant bookstore owner and writer, her first meeting with whom was tainted by accidental fear and perceived rejection.  Heather Cox was a fellow student, one Sam found attractive.  Making a decision to move past her prior prejudice against foxes, she began a relationship with Heather, oblivious to the way Felicity pined after her. 
> 
> The relationship with Heather ended in a bloody encounter wherein Heather attempted to sexually assault Samantha injuring her in the process, and Sam defended herself with lethal force.  Felicity, who followed the pair that evening after sensing something was wrong, arrived on the scene in time to watch Sam defend herself, and then she took Sam to the hospital and then home.  Following that, Sam began going to therapy to head off the possibility of post-traumatic stress and other complications of having been attacked and forced to kill in self defense.  Felicity offered to take Sam to therapy, and Sam insisted on having Felicity present for the sessions, feeling more comfortable with her in the room than without.
> 
> And now the conclusion.

The day after Samantha’s first therapy session, Felicity arrived at the bookstore precisely on time to relieve her afternoon clerk Jill.  Despite Sam’s assurance that she’d be there, Felicity didn’t expect to see her and thus took her time in the back of the store during the last half hour or so of Jill’s shift working on inventory.  She rather lost track of time and was somewhat startled when the teen porcupine poked her head into the back room.

“Miss Kaine, it’s eight oh five,” the girl said cheerfully.  “I’m out of here, unless there’s anything else you need from me.”

Felicity shook her head.  “No,” she said quietly, “go ahead.  I’ll see you Wednesday.”  When the girl withdrew, Felicity sighed and wrote a note for her morning manager, which she left on the unfinished inventory paperwork, then she made her way back to the main body of the store.  After eight in the evening most Saturdays there were very few customers.  The ones who showed up late tended to show up not long before Felicity closed at ten.

Thus it was with surprise that she saw a rabbit among the shelves in the science fiction section.  Felicity wandered in that direction, intending to get a look at the customer from a safe distance before deciding whether to engage.  She smiled despite herself when she realized it was Sam, the white and black-spotted doe pushing the cart the store used to hold rejects and returns.  She was wearing leggings and a bubblegum pink teeshirt under the ridiculously over-sized black “ _I aim to misbehave_ ” shirt she’d stolen from Felicity.

“You wore that shirt yesterday,” said Felicity after she came behind the doe.

“Yeah,” said Sam, having heard Felicity coming via the deliberate shelf tapping the vixen used to alert her, “but I like it.  So there.”  Sam took a book off the cart and put it in the proper place on the shelf without looking back, and then grabbed another, looking at the title.

“It’s a good shirt.  That’s why I bought it.”  Felicity pulled the book from Sam’s grasp.  “This is my job, you know.”

“Nope,” said Sam.  “I work here now, so it’s my job.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows in surprise.  “Oh, do you now?  I don’t remember this.”

“I do,” said Sam, pulling the book from Felicity’s paws.  “I’m friends with the owner so if you don’t believe me you should speak to her.”

Felicity chuckled.  “Alright then, new girl.  You do this, and I’ll go get you a store shirt.”

The following two hours passed in a pleasant but near silent blur as Felicity did indeed get a shirt for Sam and put her in the system as an employee with all the requisite information.  The latter was done more to cover her own ass legally than anything else, but it did allow her to justify paying Sam.  The woman lived with her wealthy parents, but she insisted on paying her own way in all ways; as such, her cash was limited to what she had left in savings from prior jobs she’d had.  Felicity knew she needed the money, but Sam was not in a position mentally to be able to take a job anywhere else.

Between the two of them the books that needed to be shelved got where they needed to be and the few customers they saw before closing were cared for, few words spoken between them but neither uncomfortable with the silence, and more quickly than Felicity wanted it to, closing time arrived.  She closed up and cleaned the store, but eventually they found themselves in the parking lot, Sam’s decrepit vehicle looking more the worse for wear next to Felicity’s silver sports car.

“I don’t like that you drive that,” said Felicity as they stood before the cars. 

“It gets me where I need to go,” said Sam with a shrug.

“Until it doesn’t.”

Sam shrugged again.  “I know how to walk.”

Felicity shook her head.  “Sunshine, this bucket of bolts falls apart around you, you call me.  I’ll come get you, you know I will.”

Sam smiled brightly at her, then waved and got in her car to go home.

 A new routine reared its head then, disrupted only slightly when Sam’s sister Judy visited and subsequently gave birth two weeks later. She went to classes Monday through Thursday, working hard to pass the last semester of her college career.  Saturdays, Sundays, and Thursdays, Sam came into the store and worked the two and a half hour closing shift with Felicity, transitioning quickly to a longer shift each of those days. 

One of those days toward the end of her semester Felicity became very glad for her presence.  Another fox had come into the store, someone Felicity didn’t know, and instead of shopping for a book he decided to hover around the counter at the front of the store and offer inane chatter to Felicity.  Sam was returning rejected and returned books to the shelves at first, and when she realized the tod wasn’t going away she began to make her way to the front of the store. 

Felicity meanwhile tried to hint at the fox that his flirtation was unwanted and unappreciated, but more she tried, the more he flirted and the more anxious she became.  After several minutes of this Felicity had retreated into herself, her arms folded in discomfort, her voice quiet, and her eyes downcast.  Just when Felicity began to feel she might be about to have a panic attack, Sam approached the counter and looked up at the red fox male who was so much bigger than her, fists balled at her side. 

“Hey,” she barked at him, causing the fox to stop speaking mid-sentence, the smarmy grin falling into a scowl on his face.  “Either buy something or leave.  If you continue to harass my staff, I’m going to call the police.”

Such was the ferocity and confidence on her face that the tod didn’t even argue.  “Whatever,” he scoffed, turning to the exit.  “I don’t want a fuckin’ dyke like her anyway.”  He left the store in a huff without looking back. 

Once he was gone, Sam rounded on Felicity, who was heavily leaning on the counter breathing hard in an attempt to not panic.  “What the hell, Felicity?” said Sam, sharply.  “When were you going to stop him?  Were you going to just _let_ him keep harassing you?!”

The shouting did nothing to help Felicity’s nerves and she closed her eyes without responding, beginning to shake.  A moment later, a soft paw touched Felicity’s, and when she looked Sam was regarding her with a much softer expression, something with concern and something else Felicity couldn’t define.

“…I’m sorry,” murmured Sam.  “I didn’t…I guess I didn’t realize how….” She trailed off.

“Fragile,” whispered Felicity.  “The word you’re looking for is fragile.”

“Delicate,” disagreed Sam.  “I didn’t understand how delicate your nerves are.”

“They’re synonyms, Sam,” said Felicity without looking at her.

“Semantics.”

Felicity looked up and saw a change in Sam’s gaze.  It was as if a revelation as occurring as she looked at the fox, but a revelation of what, Felicity couldn’t tell.  “Precisely,” said Felicity with a weak smile. 

Sam’s paw tightened on Felicity’s for a moment, and then their routine went on.

Though she enjoyed working with Sam, there was a more important aspect to their daily routine.  Every Tuesday and Friday, Felicity woke up extra early to have a meal—breakfast for her, lunch for them—with Sam and her parents and then pick Sam up and take her to therapy, where she’d sit quietly and listen to Sam at first verbally spar with, and then slowly begin to cooperate with, the therapist.  Occasionally Felicity was asked by one or the other of them to give her opinion or her recollection of something, but mostly she sat quietly and listened as the therapist gradually got Sam to open up and begin talking about her feelings.  At first she simply rehashed things she’d said before:  working through her feelings over relinquishing custody over her children, talking about the effect Nick had had on her.  But then she was talking about Heather, and how the relationship with the kit fox had began, how she’d so fully convinced herself that she trusted the girl that she’d ignored her own signs of discomfort and failed to see the signs.

The change happened so smoothly that it was almost unnoticed by Felicity.  The vixen still hurt over her feelings for her friend, but she was spending so much time with Sam lately that the ache became a dull background sensation.

It was during a Friday therapy session when that ache once again came to the forefront.  Sam had been discussing with Dr. Bryant the nature of her feelings for Heather, and the dynamics of the resulting relationship.  Bryant had been trying to get Sam to understand how Heather’s manipulation of her had functioned and how to see it again, but the conversation had lulled, Sam growing introspective.  Bryant simply sat quietly, observing Sam and waiting for her to be ready to speak again.

Finally, Sam did speak.  “It’s been five weeks,” she said, looking carefully with a studious frown at the floor between the couch and Bryant’s arm chair, “and I’ve seen you nine times.  And we’ve talked a lot about what happened and how I feel and how I should feel, but…we’ve never really talked about what we do from here.”

“How do you mean?” asked Bryant. 

Sam hesitated, then glanced at Felicity briefly with an odd expression; she seemed almost afraid.  “Well, what…I mean, it happened only a few weeks ago.  Is it normal to…fall in love so quickly after something like that?”  She gesticulated as she spoke, not noticing how Felicity’s gaze turned immediately from her book to Sam’s face, not noticing Felicity’s chest becoming perforated with the wounds of a knife. 

“I mean,” continued Sam, heedless of Felicity’s attention, “it feels like, like I should _mourn_ for awhile or something.  It’s like, I feel like it’s inappropriate that I should love someone else so quickly after being attacked by someone I thought I loved.  Should I ignore it?  Should I, should I deny it?  Can it even be real?”

Bryant leaned on his left arm, placing his right ankle on his left, and he looked at Felicity for a short but pointed second before returning his gaze to Sam.  “Do you think the love you feel for this person is real?”

“I don’t know,” replied Sam.  “Have I ever really _been_ in love before?  How is it supposed to feel?  What does it mean?  How do I know?”

“Most people,” said Felicity, her voice almost a whisper, “would say that love is that moment when you choose someone else’s well-being over your own comfort.  That moment when you realize that you can sit with them in silence and the silence isn’t strained or boring.  Love is the moment when you’ve had the worst day of your life and when you see them you feel safe and cared for.  When you smile randomly and realize after a minute that you’re smiling because you smelled them.  Love is when you can be challenged by them to be better, and instead of feeling threatened or afraid you feel brave.

“Love is when home is no longer a _place_ , but a _person_.”

There was a long moment of silence during which Felicity didn’t dare look up from her lap. 

Then, Bryant cleared his throat.  “Your friend is right, I think,” said the rabbit therapist.  “I may have worded it in a less poetic fashion, but there you have it.  The thing about emotions, Sam, is that they don’t care about such petty things as social mores or rules of etiquette.  Are you ready to fall in love again and risk the pain that could come from it?  Ready or not, your heart may decide on its own.  What you must decide for yourself is…do you have the fortitude to stand and face it?”

 

It was almost a week later before Felicity saw Sam again; the rabbit had been consumed with preparations for her graduation ceremony, and so Felicity understood and accepted the distance with grace.  It was just as well; she wasn’t sure she could face Sam after such an open description of the feelings she had for the bunny.  It took nearly the whole week before Felicity stopped breaking out into shakes when she thought about it.

The day came, though, and Felicity attended the ceremony at the college campus Thursday evening, sitting with Bonnie and Stu.  The latter became very emotional very quickly, forcing his wife to comfort him and attempt to bring him to control. 

The ceremony was fairly standard for a college graduation, with speeches from students and honors given before the graduates were allowed to walk.  Felicity allowed herself a smile when Sam was named as having graduated with highest honors, having had no doubt that would be the case. 

After the ceremony proper Sam found Felicity and her parents outside.  Felicity stood aside as the parents did the congratulations thing, Stu threatening to fall apart again, but soon enough Sam gave them a significant glance.  This lead Bonnie to smile slyly at Felicity.  She passed Sam the younger doe’s satchel.

“Stu,” said Bonnie to her husband, “we should get back home.  Sam’s got more things to do this evening than hang out with her very proud parents.” 

Stu sniffed and wiped his face.  “I know,” he said, “I’m just…so _proud_!”

“Oh come on, softie,” said Bonnie, pulling him along.  “Have a good evening, Felicity.  Sam, we love you.”

When they left, Felicity gave Sam a sideways look.  “What’s going on?”

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Sam, too innocently.  “Can we go to your place?  I’m hyped and I don’t want to go to my parent’s house and get drowned in family.”

“Sure thing,” said Felicity.  It took only a few minutes to get to her car and get free of the crowded lot, and from there it was a quiet ride to Felicity’s house on the edge of town.  Felicity was quiet because she was afraid of where this evening was going to go; was Sam about to tell her who she was in love with?  Would she let her down gently?  Surely by now the doe knew how deeply, blindingly in love with her Felicity was. 

“You’re tense,” murmured Sam as they pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. 

Felicity nodded.  “Last time you were here you almost had a panic attack.”

“But that’s not why,” replied Sam, with a look. 

Felicity didn’t deny it.  Nor did she confirm it.  Instead she unlocked her front door and let Sam in. 

Sam entered, flipped the light on, and then went into the kitchen where she set her satchel down on the table.  She was nervous, a slight shake to her paws.  But she was also excited, an electric thrill in her sparkling violet eyes. 

Felicity sat at the table, accepting the unspoken invitation.  Sam sat across from her and toyed with the zipper on her satchel. 

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” said Sam.  “Three long years.  I’ve changed so much in that time.  And you’ve always been there, trying to guide me along.  You’ve always been there with a kind word or a suggestion or, or food.  You’ve been my friend, even when I barely noticed you through my obsession with school.  Far more than I deserve.” 

“I don’t think I’d agree with that,” said Felicity.  “You deserve support.  I’ve always supported you, because it’s what you deserve.” 

Sam nodded.  “I suppose.  But in the last couple months I think…we’ve changed.  Not just me, but _us_.  We’ve really become friends, and…I don’t think I could have gotten through this without you.  You’re important to me, Felicity.”

Felicity felt herself tighten up.  She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable let down she was about to have delivered to her.  Sam would do it gently; of course she would.  But it would still hurt more than any rejection ever had before.

The sound of the bag’s zipper barely registered as Felicity wrapped her arms around her torso. 

“Felicity,” said Sam gently, “please don’t be afraid of me.”  Sam’s paw touched Felicity’s arm, coaxing it out from where it wrapped around her, and then the paw slid down to the wrist gently, turning Felicity’s palm up.  A soft, cool, round object was pressed into her paw. 

Felicity’s eyes flew open and she looked at what she held:  it was a single ripe plum, unmarked by claws or knives.  The vixen looked at Sam, brow furrowed in confusion and chest lacerated with a new pain:  the sharp agony of immediate visceral hope.

“I don’t understand,” whispered Felicity.

“Yes you do,” said Sam, her voice bold; always bolder than Felicity’s, always balanced against the vixen’s meekness.  “And I do too, finally.  For so long it’s been there, and I’ve refused to see it.  I’ve let my own pride and my own determination overshadow it.  I let myself be led back to that… _place_ I thought I’d walked away from so long ago, when it was apparent even then. 

“I love you,” said Sam, not an ounce of uncertainty in her voice.  “I think I have for awhile, and I couldn’t see it.”

Felicity would have been shaking like a leaf, if she hadn’t been stunned to perfect stillness.  “When?”

Sam understood the question and gave a wry smile.  “When I saw how you folded the other day with that tod.  I saw how terrified you were, and then I yelled and you folded even more, and I knew then that I never wanted to cause you so much pain again.  I realized how much I wanted to be there for you, like you’ve been there for me.”

Felicity’s mind whirled in a hundred directions and her emotions flared equally chaotically, and one more time Felicity chose the safe path.  “M-maybe I should take you home, Sam, so you can think about this.”

“Don’t you understand?”  Sam reached across the table and pulled Felicity’s head up to look at her, then let her paw linger on Felicity’s snowy cheek.  “I slept in your car hours after someone tried to rape me.  When I smell your scent, it makes me happy; so much so that I stole one of your shirts.  We can sit comfortably in silence for hours.  You challenge me and I feel like I can be better than I am.  I don’t need to go anywhere to be home.  I _am_ home.  _You_ are home, now.  I know I’m not alone.  Tell me I’m not alone.”  The last statement was spoken with just the hint of her voice breaking, and the smallest possible doubt in her eyes.

Felicity’s paw closed around the plum.  “No,” said Felicity softly.  “I love you too, Sam.” 

The bunny stood and made her way around the table, then climbed carefully in Felicity’s lap where her paws found their place, one on Felicity’s side and one cupping her cheek.  Together, they closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a moment of wildly intense and subtle sensation.  The kiss was gentle but powerful, not quite sexual but far from chaste, the interplay between them shy and probing in equal measure, and when they parted just enough to breathe the shared air in the narrow space between their muzzles it wasn’t clear whose tears began first.  They clung to each other then, both overwhelmed with the power of what was just shared.

 

Felicity was unaccustomed to waking with the sun, but she couldn’t bring herself to dislike the sensation when it came with the warmth of the body in her arms.  Their night had been passionate but short, the emotional toll driving them both to exhaustion.  When Sam stirred there in her arms, turning to face Felicity still mostly asleep, the vixen’s arms tightened around her. 

“Mmm,” hummed Sam, contentedly.  She nuzzled into Felicity’s shoulder.  “This is heaven.”

“Does that make you a god?”

Sam snickered.  “Maybe you’re the god.”

“Some god,” said Felicity with a strained smile.  “I could barely get naked.”

Sam smiled back and kissed her softly.  “And a glorious nakedness it is.”

Felicity was silent for a few minutes, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. 

Finally, she spoke quietly.  “We could have.  We still could.”

Sam kissed her again, this time squarely on the nose.  “Only when you’re ready, my Moon.  I’m just happy to be home.”

Reassured, Felicity let herself relax into Sam’s warmth again.  It had been a long road for both of them, and they both had a long road ahead.  But they’d walk it together.

* * *

It had been two and a half years since Felicity helped Samantha Hopps to the hospital that fateful night.  She stood in the bright cold of that winter afternoon, leaning against her car as she waited.  Most of the rest of the faculty at the elementary school had left already, but the wait didn’t bother Felicity.  The cold couldn’t compete with the warmth of her thick winter coat, and so she stood there in a tennis skirt and sleeveless tee.  She wore the outfit more to titillate Sam than as a fashion statement, if truth be told. 

She heard the unmistakable sound of Sam’s gait approaching and turned to see the rabbit walking briskly toward her.  Samantha wore figure-accenting pants and a warm jacket Felicity had given her last winter, as well as a warm smile.

Felicity smiled.  “Hey, Sunshine.  You’re late, everyone else already left.  What were you doing, huffing the glue?”

Sam snorted and slid into the passenger seat of the car as she did every day.  “Yeah.  That’s me, alright.  Sam Kaine-Hopps, glue junkie.”

Felicity slid in next to her.  “I could do worse,” she smirked. 

Sam leaned across the center console and pulled the vixen into a light but not quite chaste kiss, completing their daily parking lot routine.  Then she buckled and claimed Felicity’s right paw, lacing their fingers together.

Felicity looked back at the beautiful bunny next to her, and wondered how she could have ever been lucky enough to meet her. 

“Let’s go home,” said Sam, the familiar double meaning causing a hitch in Felicity’s chest. 

“Already there,” retorted Felicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I'd come back to this, didn't I? I am truly sorry it took so very long, but here it is at long last. I hope it meets your approval.


End file.
